domestic rituals for the socially impaired
by sour gummies
Summary: ironically enough, the four of them sometimes feel like the last human beings alive, and that is precisely what makes tuesdays so special. —post-Sburb, john/rose/dave/jade. kink meme fill.


a/n: another kink meme fill. can be read as platonic affection or something more.

* * *

><p>From day one, they had each agreed to an ultimatum, a non-negotiable ordinance that bound them together as a functioning familial unit: namely, that Tuesdays Are Special.<p>

No one was to have outside business on a Tuesday. No one would make other plans on a Tuesday.

And so it passes that, by Tuesday of every week, Dave Strider has wholly finished recovering from a hectic, jam-packed weekend of DJ-ing for the local nightclub circuit. He's collected his check and caught up on his sleep, finished nursing the inevitable residual hangover and collected his cool, ready to face the other inhabitants of the apartment with a thumbs up and a poker face that can't _quite_ conceal his unironic fondness.

By Tuesday of every week, Rose Lalonde has successfully made it through the first of four days of classes she attends weekly at her university, and she's ready for the relaxation of a day off in the apartment. She has unfailingly worked ahead to have her Wednesday assignments completed and ready to go, eliminating the need to attend to them at any point on Tuesday. She knows that she has the remainder of the week to worry about her scholastic progress, and that in the end, it all pales in importance compared to the precious moments spent with the three people who understand her better than anyone in the world, the people she considers closer than friends.

By Tuesday of every week, Jade Harley is quite ready for a reprieve from the endless vexation of job-hunting, of raised eyebrows and incredulous glances and having her credentials as a nuclear physicist questioned again and again by men in suits who don't understand how she could possibly believe herself qualified to work in their field at her age. It is a matter of pride that keeps her from seeking more common employment, or even accepting Rose's repeated offers of fiscal aid in getting a legitimate college degree – not that Jade would ever consent to waste so many years of her life repeating lessons she already knows. On Tuesdays she can leave behind the unfortunate reality that there are some things in the real world that island life could not prepare her for, can abandon those worries in the company of people who accept her for who she is and who question nothing.

By Tuesday of every week, John Egbert has most of the chores done. He's swept floors and scrubbed dishes and tidied the common areas and done the laundry over the course of the weekend, while Dave is working and Rose is studying and Jade is polishing her resume and making valiant (but hopeless) efforts to hone her job-interviewing skills.

By Tuesday John has mostly finished the bulk of the programming homework from his online classes, has done enough grocery shopping to keep the apartment well-stocked and livable, has fielded innumerable calls from concerned former foster parents who have just _never _understood why he took off right on his eighteenth birthday, with no other goal in mind than to play housewife for a handful of friends he met over the internet.

It's okay, though. Really. John wouldn't expect them to understand. He couldn't ask so much of the well-intentioned but ultimately clueless people who had tried to be his parents after Sburb.

Tried.

Only three people on Earth can hope to comprehend John's reasoning, and he's thrown away everything else in the world to be with them, just like they've unflinchingly done for him.

And so by Tuesday of every week, the four of them have settled on a handful of movies; perhaps a kung-fu fighter with intentionally terrible subtitles to appeal to Dave's sense of irony, or maybe a psychological thriller to test Rose's intellect, or even a few seasons of that old Squiddles show that Jade can sing along to.

Sometimes they just watch _Con Air_.

They pile up on the dilapidated couch and dim the lights every Tuesday, sharing chips and candy and almost any snack imaginable that _isn't cake,_ and maybe an hour or so into the movie, John and Jade are holding hands. Or Dave's head has found its way into in Rose's lap. Or Jade has fallen asleep leaning against Dave's side, or Dave has his arm slung around John's shoulders, or Rose is braiding Jade's long hair or John is teasingly attempting with varying degrees of success to feed Rose individual kernels of popcorn with his fingers.

And, for a day, they can forget about Sburb, about dead guardians and terrible nightmares and faraway aliens and the empty feeling that fills their stomachs when they try to communicate with normal people who don't remember the game ever happened.

There has to be a world outside of this small apartment on the outskirts of the city, a world that keeps turning despite the horrors of the past, but then, that's why Tuesdays Are Special.

On Tuesdays, four young adults can come together and simply take comfort in one another's presence.

On Tuesdays, they can pretend it's only them.


End file.
